Gateway to Dawn
by Ar-Kaos
Summary: Arc V of my semiepic. Ther batte for Tarterus is over but peace is a long way off. The Beachhead must be reenforced and necessity forces some strange bedfellows. Amongst all this a wedge is drioven between the Family Saotome. Trouble ahead, Total rework
1. Up from the ashes

**Gateway To Dawn Part One**

**Up from the Ashes.**

"And so as this new day dawns on us all I invite you to join with me in wishing our friends the best of luck in this new Enterprise." Nabiki stood in front of an assembled mass of warriors. She was on the viewing deck of the new station and behind her the vast stardock was slowly coming into view. "As the _Corsair _launches for our renewed offensive I am sure that I speak for all present when I assure those who sail in her that they shall not be far from our thoughts, that their dedication is deeply respected and has already earned our gratitude." With that she turned back to the window, hiding the tear that gathered at the corner of her eye.

In front of her the Stardock could be seen to disgorge its companion. Its four great arms releasing the sleek black and red carrier that was soon to hurl itself deep into alien territory. It's form was unmistakably warlike, a blister of guns and launchers seemed to cover every spare bit of hull that wasn't thrusters or fighter bays. Clad around her sides were a dozen more craft, locked onto the side for transit, to be disgorged the moment she slowed to tactical speeds.

Aboard her were the cream of the Nemesis crews, drawn from every branch that the vessel would need in her incursion, scientists, engineers, marines and pilots. For Saotome Nabiki however this was all a side-effect. The one person that really mattered was the Ship's commanding officer, her husband Ranma, leaving her once more for an uncertain future that would be filled with violence and death. In her mind she could feel the sorrow of her eldest child and through her could feel the pain that her husband tried to hide. A part of her still screamed to call them and call him back, knowing that he would come if she but asked. The better part of her self knew she wouldn't, this was the way things needed to be.

"It still sucks though" she whispered to herself.

"Don't worry Commodore," replied a voice in her head, "Nobody's got him yet, and he has got more reason than ever to be careful."

"Gos" she whispered in reply to the disembodied psyker, "I know you mean well but… Piss off" She just didn't need to hear it just now.

Through the screen the _Corsair_'s huge engines lit up with their bright blue glow, quickly carrying her charges towards their clouded fate.

Ooo

The Aftermath of the Battle at Tarterus had not been pretty. To say that things had looked really bad would have been a massive understatement. So many operatives lost, so much hardware slagged and no way to return, the only saving grace had been the cast amount of building materials available to the Dark angels.

So they had set to work. In the immediate aftermath of the battle everyone who wasn't in sickbay was pressed into the engineering branch. Like worker ants they had swarmed over the disabled vessels, salvaging, scrapping or pressing into service anything and everything. They knew only too well that their respite would not last, sooner rather than later the aliens would be back, and in force.

The era saw some strange bedfellows, not only were navigators and slushy-chefs suddenly working side by side on engineering problems but for the first time sectoids worked full time on the human cause. Gos, in his new 'lightweight' existence, pressed dozens of the weak minded aliens into their cause, wielding them like robots to provide limited but expendable extra hands.

Together the rag tag remains forged a new defensive screen. Made up of computer controlled drones that were little more than mobile mines and the space equivalent of fire-ships the forces created a patrolled dome around their position. It proved its use far too early for anyone's comfort. Within two weeks of the battle the aliens were back, stragglers aiming to join the armada turned up and had to be neutralised as fast as possible.

As the attacks increased more and more pilots were needed to back up the patrols and daily existence became one of harassed siege. The pilots took to sleeping in their ships, the drone 'comptrollers' at their terminals, and everyone else tried to give up sleeping all together.

The weeks turned into a month and then two, with the scale and timing of the attacks varying just wildly enough to keep everyone off balance. Morale and rest were replaced by repetitive motion and willpower. And amongst all this the Saotome's second child was born. They named him Christopher after a departed friend and went back to their stations as soon as their legs would carry them.

Then suddenly things changed, without even realising it the Angels had built a hardened position that could, and did, turn back or destroy the mighty battleships of the Dominion. When a small host of over a dozen arrived they were destroyed without loss, all the while the beachhead's alert status never topped yellow; it was a turning point. Suddenly the Angels breathed again. That night a truly massive party raged across the human beachhead. From the wrecked Nemesis, now pressed into service as a weapons platform to the new habitations aboard the previously enemy station, everywhere the tension broke in a hectic, chaotic mass of celebration.

The following day nothing got done, and it was good.

However reality soon dragged the humans back to the grindstone. As things stood they were jury-rigged; held together with duct tape and prayers where there should have been precision fusings and careful planning. There was still a vast amound of spare material placed around the station and in orbit of the nearby tiny gas planet. Scientists returned to neglected labs, kitchens were again manned and training flights became risk-free. The Saotome's even managed to spend some time together as a family.

Hope crept back into the hearts of the humans and with it came new energy to do things they had long put off. Which in turn led to one of the most controversial events of the war, Gos and Kodachi released some sectoids. Not just of the mental controls that had been bred into them but the conditioning and the chemical dependence that they relied on.

The two of them claimed it was just an experiment but its repercussions shook some very severe foundations. The problem was that they weren't assholes, sure they were still completely culturally alien but they also had personalities, emotions not caused by pain and even a somewhat warped sense of humour.

It didn't stop there the liberated beings almost immediately pledged their loyalty and their lives to the human cause. Suddenly free for the first time since their birth the creatures were able to relate the nasty details of their service, from the forced breeding to the way the overlords left just enough of you to be aware of your slavery, but consigned it to impotent screaming in the prison of your own mind. They sincerely wanted the chance to strike back against their oppressors, even at the cost of their own lives, and it was a problem.

The heart of the problem was simple, X-Com didn't negotiate with aliens, in fact they shot people who did. They were trained and conditioned to despise the aliens. Now however they were confronted with the fact that some might not deserve their hate. That some might actually share their cause. What amazed Nabiki wasn't those agents who threatened to kill any of the free-ones but those who didn't. A surprising number of agents were quickly able to differentiate these aliens from their enemies and bit by bit friendships began to form.

Nevertheless the divisions were there, lines were drawn and teams split by acrimony. Nabiki and her family struggled to stay apart from the arguments but others were not so professional. Kodachi openly paraded her new 'friend' and the good doctor spent a great deal of time with another former slave. On the other side were the hard-liners, mostly veterans of the earlier wars, and including many who had lost family to the menace. At the heart of them stood the Scots commando Ranma's oldest friend, Laura. She was far from the most vocal opponent of the aliens, but she hardly needed to be, ever since the battle for Tarterus where she led others followed without question. Few were unaware of her record and fewer still unaware of the singular trust that the mission leaders had in her. Ranma and others asked her to reign in her disapproval, she refused with customary stubbornness, rightly stating she had every goddamn right to think anything she damn well thought and that "nae scunner is gonna take that right without a fight!"

Nobody could argue that the drones hadn't been useful during the fortification, and even the hard-liners had to admit that the newly freed aliens were sincere in their desire to fight. The problems ran much deeper than that, like the fact there were literally hundreds of them still alive in sleep pods, waiting for the final order to be given. Naturally enough some of the more liberal agents called for these too to be 'de-programmed'.

This of course pushed the hard-liners up against a wall, one or two bugs was one thing but hundreds was a different story. The arguments raged, and it was only a matter of time before they turned bloody. Unfortunately the way things happened was far from ideal.

It was Laura. She was drinking but not yet drunk, however a certain anniversary was due and she was in a really foul mood; when one of the free-ones made a mistake, it asked the wrong question at the wrong time.

Oooo

"Surely you humans have killed more of your own kind than we," the sectoid argued at a table behind the Marine, "yet you do not loathe your own as a species."

"That is different" his companion replied, "and we still have a fair deal of sectarianism on earth."

"Yet you claim betrayal is a greater sin" the stunted alien replied. Turning to Laura without thinking of the implications the alien asked, "Your mate was killed by a human wasn't it? So how is it that you can hate-" The alien was cut off by a strong right cross.

"Don't. Even. Dream Of Talking Of Him!" Laura commanded. "You dinnae know anything about it, you could'nae ken if ya tried!"

"I couldn't understand?" the alien argued from the floor, "of course not, my kind has not suffered at the hands of the dominion" it finished with irony dripping. "And as I understand it I am free to talk about-" Again t was silenced with violence, this time by a boot rigorously applied to its mid section.

"Fuck you!" she argued back, rage boiling, as she was held half-heartedly by some of her squad.

"This isn't the time" one asserted to her.

"Yes it is" objected the alien, "This is the perfect time." It finished rising labouriously. "Tell me now why I should bow down to your command, why I have to obey your orders!" Laura just fumed.

"The truth is that you are no better than the brains" the alien argued, "you want my labour and that of my race but you'd rather see us dead than helping."

"So what?" she demanded, "I've earned that right!"

"You have" the alien replied, causing a sudden confusion. "I know what you have done, and I know what it has cost you" it added, "and I know that it was at the hands of my people that that price was exacted."

"Damn right" Laura growled.  
"Wait there" interjected the alien's companion, only to be cut off by the alien.

"So I offer you the only apology I have that means anything," it continued and stepped forwards. "Let her go" he said to the marines holding her. "If she wants my life its hers."

"Damn right" Laura growled and bashed the alien back into the floor. He made no attempt to fight back as she furiously battered him. Several times others tried to stop things but the alien always cut them off before they had any effect. Others tried to physically stop Laura but she shrugged them off, often painfully.

Laura saw only red. In her mind her husband died again, her friends, all the pain and anguish of the years of war was coming out and it was breaking like a tidal wave.

Then suddenly she found herself over the unresisting alien, splattered with his blood, and holding a bloodied fist upraised for the killing blow.

The alien for his part looked up with more than a little fear but also something far to close to understanding.

"Damn!" she swore and punched through a table instead.

O

O

O

Laura was jailed for assault and grievous bodily harm. It did not look good. They had her bang to rights, even if he was an alien the guy had been under their protection and as an officer she should have been setting the example not breaking faith. In a final irony her cell was right next to that of Everett, the fallen hero and the traitor, one condemned by untractable law the other saved by it. Just as the legal code demanded Laura stand trial for her assault, despite the victim's apparent willingness so did it demand higher officers than were available to try Everett.

The court-martial had little choice, by law the alien was a entitled to protection and she had to suffer for her actions. A tribunal of officers read the manual and came to a verdict within minutes. She was stripped of her rank and by naval law ordered to serve a time in the brig. For X-com this was surprisingly generous, their legal code was somewhat more severe, taking an extremely hard line over crippling people who were aiding the war effort.

Laura was stuck somewhere between repentance and outrage, made worse by Everett's crowing 'I told you she was no good.' She went quietly to her cell and left only tension in her wake.

Nabiki and Ranma had argued long and hard about the trial and its outcome. Ranma firmly believed that the trial should never have been allowed to happen in the first place, and Nabiki insisted that the Crew needed rules now more than ever, needed to see that there was a uniform justice code. For Ranma it smacked of abandoning his friend, to Nabiki it felt no less like a betrayal but she at least could see the real need for it. If letting their friend be jailed was painful, the disagreement between the two of them was far more so. Even baby Kimi could feel it and the hurt cut all three deeply.

It was into this that the _Corsair_ was thrown. Strategic analysts, and tacticians, not least of which was the nominal 2i/c, Misato, came up with a new plan. On the face of it the plan was simple enough, strike at the enemy to prevent them from gathering their forces, operate a strategic deep strike to buy more time for the humans and gain more intel on the alien menace. There were very few drawbacks, the deep striker would have to be beyond contact for large periods of time, but this was handle-able, they would need to prey on enemy shipping for supplies, again, not a rela problem, and they would need their own repair bays to keep the fight going for as long as possible. From the outset the plan was accepted to be hugely risky, the _Corsair_ would be beyond help and deep in enemy territory, but as one person said it would be the same sort of thing that Nemesis was designed for, just on a different scale.

So the idea became plans and that became prototypes and in turn the strike force started to materialise. Details were hammered out in long meetings, setting everything from crewing to bunk size. The ship itself was deliberately fast to make, being mostly retrofitted alien vessel parts designed into a more efficient whole.

However one thing was left unsaid, in the middle of the frosty feelings, Ranma and Nabiki never actually vocalised the thoughts that lay behind the plans; as long as things stood the way they were both knew that Ranma would be going on the mission, knew that he would leave and both hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Even as the crew started to train for the mission neither of the couple broke the silence and said what they knew they should. Day by day a wall built up, driving them further apart.

So the day came for final flight checks and the two of them stood on either side of a doorway, unable to bridge the invisible divide, and hurting like hell as a result. Kimi, stuck in the middle, completely failed to understand, and was left shedding the tears that her parents felt. She knew that the two of them still loved each other, knew that they wanted to be together and knew that neither wanted the distance that had formed, but the rest just didn't make sense, so she cried instead. When she realised how much that was hurting her parents she took to doing it where they wouldn't see. Even with its new centre slowly the family Saotome was spiralling out.

Ranma paid one last visit to the brig before he left.

"Hiya Nutter" he said, taking a seat opposite Laura, "How ya doing?"

"Hit Everett again today" Laura replied grumpily, "Added another week to my sentence."

"Laura!" Ranma chided, "At least tell me he won't be talking for a while."  
"Two weeks with regen tech" Laura replied with a quiet smirk, "busted him up good and proper."

"So why only-"

"Two weeks?" Laura interrupted, "guard saw him 'provoking' me," she explained, "basically said the scunner deserved it."

"Laura" Ranma said in a suddenly serious tone.  
"Uh-huh" she replied in a drawn out prompt.  
"I'm going away for a while" he explained, she just looked confused. "They won't have told you down here but we've got a new project on and-"

"You're gonna go kick some alien tail?" she guessed. He nodded his reply. "Good for you, so what's the…" she prompted.

"Nabs" he offered quietly.

"Don't tell me the two of you still haven't patched things up!" Laura demanded, Ranma avoided her gaze, which was admission enough. "Damn you Saotome" she said softly, with real care in her voice, "don't leave like this."

"I won't" he replied unconvincingly. "But I still need you to look after her and the kids."

"You didn't need to ask" Laura assured him, "Of course I'll look after them. But there's more to this than that isn't there."

"Uh huh" Ranma agreed and silence stretched. "I just got a really bad feeling about this one" he finished.

"Whoa" Laura said, not used to seeing him so down, it certainly wasn't the attitude to fight with. "Ran-man you can't –" she began, preparing a serious dressing down.

"Just look after them okay" Ranma interrupted. He stared at her and she nodded her reply. He smiled once, patted her on the shoulder and left.

Needless to say he never had the conversation he promised, and after saying a solitary farewell to his kids Saotome Ranma went to the flight deck carrying a heart heavier than all he moons of Mars.

O

O

O

On the viewing deck Nabiki's tears flowed unabated, suddenly she didn't care about showing weakness to the crew, didn't care about examples to be set or morale issues, she just wanted her husband back and for him to wrap his arms around her and make everything alright again.


	2. Fight the good fight

**Part 2: Visitors.**

"Okay guys lets take it easy," Nabiki commanded, "No kneejerk reactions okay!" She was sat in the command chair of Nemesis's repaired bridge watching a fresh drama unfold. "Bring them in nice and slow."

"Nothing I can find implies duplicity" reported Go's electronic voice. "Hyperwaves and scans all show no hostility."

"Thanks" Nabiki muttered, knowing the ghost would catch the quiet words. Outside a close cordon of heavy fighter-bombers could be seen escorting a chunky looking brown vessel through the drone field. The vessel itself was almost tubular, broken only by a smattering of blister arrays. It's variegated hull was a patchwork of browns and golds, looking amost as jury-rigged as the station it approached.

Steadily it passed the orbiting weapons platforms and came into a stationary orbit around the modified Alien base station. From its side a small X-com boarding vessel detached. In turn it headed towards the maw of Nemesis's flight deck.

On the Bridge Nabiki crossed her fingers and stood, casting one more glance around the bridge she headed for the lifts. Behind her a close cordon of senior officers fell in. Together the lifts sped them to one of the most momentous meetings that the Human force would ever have.

O

o

It all started a week ago when a long range patrol probe spotted an unidentified signal. A flight of interceptors had been dispatched to investigate and soon details began to arrive. First came better pictures, then detailed scans of the craft's capabilities.

The craft was heavily armed with out-dated alien tech, its engines similarly powerful but antiquated. In contrast the battle damaged hull was practically pre-flight, whoever was on board blatantly relied on faith more than armour. It was certainly of no hull design the human force knew.

Then the interceptors had discovered a signal, it was on a very old visible light based system, and was completely unintelligable. Nabiki immediately put her best onto decoding but was just as quickly assured that without a frame of reference any attempt at decoding would be pure guesswork.

So Nabiki had sent Gos. Using a broad carrier wave projected by a hurriedly modified rescue vessel. He had been projected close and started attempting deep scans, only to find himself suddenly thwarted. The vessel was projecting some sort of psychic dead zone, stopping every attempt. There was much swearing.

The situation stretched out. The vessel halted outside the defensive screen and continued to broadcast only its basic signal. Its escort patrolled and evryone waited. Aboard the base the mentally susceptible sectoids were evacuated to a shielded bunker deep within the earth ship. Everywhere security ramped up and up. Torches were shined into the darkest corners, crewmembers' status constantly monitored and psychic sweeps all but constant.

Then, a little over five days later, Nabiki was awoken in the middle of the night by a call from Misato on the bridge, "We've got a possible slution" she informed the sleepy leader.

"Talk to me" Nabiki ordered, untangling herself from her sleeping children. Padding quietly across the room she pulled on a jumpsuit and dropped down into her desk seat.

"It appears to be a request for help" Misato informed her.

"How sure are we?" Nabiki asked sleepily.

"Kodachi claims that this sort of message is one of her specialities" Misato informed her, a trace of distaste in her voice.

"Uh-huh" Nabiki agreed, refusing to let her mind travel that path. "Can we respond?" she asked.

"She thinks so, but not with any certainty of what we say.."

"It'll have to do" Nabiki said. "Give me fifteen and I'll come to the bridge."

"Momma?" asked a sleepy Kimi.

"Sshh baby," Nabiki replied, moving over to stroke her child's brow. "Mommy's got to go to work" she explained, "call if you need me."

"Okay momma" the child replied, closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

O

o

"What do you want us to send?" Misato asked, knowing full well that the question was unfair.

"What can we send?" Nabiki asked, passing the buck.

"Not a lot" Kodachi replied. "Basically only what is in the message"

"Details," Nabiki demanded.

"It's really not that simple" the doctor replied. "We don't have the individual words or anything."

"So this is really just a guess?" Nabiki asked

"An educated one" Kodachi supplied, wincing a little

"Great" muttered the woman on whose shoulders the situation ultimately rested. "Well we're not going to learn anything new like this. Number one get me the marine deck."

"Yes Ma'am" Misato replied, placeing the call.

Nabiki called for volunteers, and received them. Minutes later a commando was assembled in a launch bay, readied for the mission.

They blasted off trailing blue light as they went. On approach to the vessel they repeated what they hoped was the 'help' part of the message, before warily shifting under the guns of the intruder. They waited and waited. Then a hatch opened on the side of the vessel, but nothing else, no beams of deadly light, no missile locks and nothing else.

"Nabs" Gos's voice broke into the commodore's head.

"Yes" she demanded.

"I'm in" he whispered.

"And" she prompted, tense in anticipation.

"Fear" he replied quietly, "anxiety, fear and outright dread."

"Send them in" Nabiki ordered, knowing full well she was gambling with the soldiers' lives.

The boarding vessel laboriously docked and aboard the Nemesis all eyes were glued to the live feed from the campods of the commando's soldiers.

Through the blue-grey images the bridge watched as the inner door cycled, revealing a squat humanoid figure at the other end of the agent's weapon. The figure was dressed in a heavy reflective suit from head to toe. Around its broad waist wrapped what was plainly a toolbelt but that also sported an old style plasma pistol. Its face was revealed through a clear panel in the suit's helm, but only dimly so, and far from fully.

It reeled off some gibberish but made no move to reach for the weapon at its side, and then it stepped back, plainly inviting the agents in deeper. The okay was given and in they went. Piece by piece the alien vessel was revealed, lacking even basic atmosphere or gravity it ranked as way down on the scale of technological development, yet the interior sported devices that were plainly more advanced. The interior also showed significantly battle damage, and on the way to the bridge the lead fireteam was led though a corridor lined with what were plainly covered corpses.

The language barrier obstructed all meaningful communication during that first meeting. The only real breakthrough came when a frustrated squat showed an agent a picture of a Muton and then, after desperately trying and failing to explain something about it, smashed his fist through the screen.

The hyper wave decoder's latest variant was tweaked and re-powered up, and concentrated on the vessel at hand. It was capable of analysing the internal communications of most alien vessels, but proved completely unable to find any signals from this one. So they shifted it again and again, unsuccessfully. The system worked by intercepting the semi-psychic scatter from alien com systems and once again these aliens proved there were significant differences between their tech and a standard alien intruder.

Another day came and went, a pair of teams of scientists working full time on attempting to break the language code of the new visitors and another team of engineers poured over the scans of the vessel.

Everyone was stalling.

Eventually everyone had to admit that they had accomplished ll they could as the situation stood. So carefully, and with much repetition the next step was agreed on and the ship began its trip inwards.

Which is why Nabiki was standing in a lift on her way to meet them, with her fingers silently crossed and feeling like she was leaning out over a precipice.

"How much are we going to be able to understand?" Nabiki asked.

"Quite a bit" Kodachi replied, "with their help we have cracked most of their main lingual structures."

"But?" Nabiki prompted.

"But" Kodachi began, "their frame of reference is almost entirely different to ours. They associate symbols so very much differently from us."

"Example?" Nabiki demanded.

"The whole culture appears to be geared towards agoraphobia," Kodachi explained, "Open spaces are considered threatening, enclosed ones welcoming. Sending people into the open air, or even on a space walk, is considered borderline inhumane torture, shutting them in a box no larger than a coffin is a standard way of calming them down."

"How does this effect us?" Nabiki asked, "other than making talking a bleeding nightmare."

"Sorry" Kodachi replied with a smile, "No idea."

"Just great" Nabiki muttered.

O

o

o

"Roger" Ranma called agian for the umpteenth time. He was sat in his coomand chair wound tighter than a coiled spring. For what seemed the first time he found himself watching as others deployed for war, while he was fixed to a chair.

Breakout had come hard. The _Corsair_'s sudden deceleration causing more adverse G's than their somewhat more lesuirely drive towards Lift. As the universe had swum back into focus every station was already blaring information across the Tac' channels. Across her exterior a full wing of interceptors had blown their clamps and flared their thrusters, deploying at full tilt.

They had jumped into an occupied sector, one that they had tracked as the end destination of many of the damaged craft from the battle for Tarterus. Intelligence claimed the area would only be lightly defended by craft unable to make longer Lifts. On the other hand the system should posess not only an advanced repair facility but also a deep space monitoring station. Any venture deep into alien space would require the station disabled or else the **_Corsair_** would be met with Alien Dominion vessels at every breakout. There was also more than a small chance the X-com vessel's approach towards this system had been watched by that same station.

For a few seconds the bridge was quiet, the whole ship appeared to be holding its breath. In comparison to even the battle bridge of the Nemesis the **_Corsair_**'s fighting heart was far from salubrious. It was cramped, dark and close; gun-metal grey reinforcing struts crisscrossing the headroom. The only lights came from the various instrument panels, all manned by blue and grey jumpsuit clad X-com personnel with faces set in grim concentration.

"All birds clear" Lt Gaeta, Tac-ops reported the news straight from Cmdr Ripper the Commander Air Group, CAG.

"Nothing on close scans," reported Petty officer Dualla.

"Lets get a fix on the red stations" Ranma ordered, wanting an update on the enemy positions, "And get the second flight out."

"Sir?" Gaeta agreed dubiously.

"They're out there" Ranma replied to the unmvoiced question.

"We have a dozen bogeys on an attack run," Dualla reported, "Coming in fats."

"Type and armaments?" Ranma requested.  
"Light interceptors with a bomber core" Dualla reported, her face lit up green in the sensor screen luminance.

"Skull and Black to high intercept" Ranma ordered, "set blue and bronze to an open net defense." The drill was well rehearsed and the changes readily expected.

"All flights confirm" Gaeta responded, his fed coming direct from the CAG.

"I have fixes on the stations" Dualla chimed in, "Both are firing up for full alert."

"Strike team to launch stations," Ranma ordered, "Assign Gold to crack the door."

"Aye aye" Dualkla and Gaeta replied.

"Sir" Commander Tigh cut in from the second bridge, "the area is not secure." His voice was hard and preaching. Ranma did not dignify the comment with a reply.

"I want blow by blow on the dogfight," he demanded, calling up a new window on his tac screen..

o

o

"All teams break and engage" CAG 'Ripper' ordered as the two top flights squared up opposite the incoming aliens. "Any of these so much as scare the paint on Mother and you all get dropped to basic." Even as the first questing locks of the Alien interceptors started to light alarms across X-com interfaces his flights fanned out, breaking into fighting pairs.

The aliens had no such order, relying on their literally inhuman reaction speeds and tolerance to high-G turns.Their equipment was not even cutting edge for the aliens, but they were driven by the same reckless disregard for their own existance.

The first few alien flyers were almost instantly dissolved into scattered sparks, hard thrusting missiles having disrupted the integrity of the aliens by virtue of high explosive. The aliens' missiles were smewhat less effective, an old type they were quickly foiled by the ECM systems aboard the X-com interceptors. Nevertheless one of Black flight was hit and quickly found themselves desperately stalling to give themselves time for their shields to recharge.

"Yee-hah!" cried Flight Lieutenant Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace. The fierce blond, despite being the 2i/c of Skull was hardly what they would call disciplined. On the other hand wioth that cry she splashed her second bug. She was indisputably the best pilot in the flight, with the kills to prove it, only Yuri and Ranko had even challenged her.

"I could use a little help here" called 2nd Lt Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii. She was new to the flight, and despite having proven herself time and time again in her old assignment she was feeling like a rookie all over again.

"Break hiugh and roll" her partner, Hielo, ordered. She obeyed without question and the bug on her tail was suddenly forced to peel off as heavy light stripped its shields. All its dodging was for naught however, Heilo wasn't that forgiving, instead he fired a charge of the particle cannon, just ion time to peirce the hard shell over the ship's reactor. Soon it too became another multi-coloured spray across the star-field.

Sometimes however even the best don't get a fair deal. Ripper did nothing wrong, every manouvre he pulled was text-book perfect, he and his wingman operating in well honed tandem. Then a stray missile l;ocked onto him as he passed. When fired the onboard computer had failed to asccept its target. It had been launched anyway. It had been deperately searching for a target since the first seconds of the fight and it was pure bad luck that his craft passed close enough to reactivate the faulty guidance systems. The missile hit his craft at precisely the moment he least wanted it to. The resulting flash blinded hius screens just long enough for a pair of bugs to turn on him. His remaining shields failed in fast order and soon the aline ordincane was hammering his hull. His Wingman peeled around to help but simply lacked the ordinace to help enough. One bug splashed and the other soon fell victim but not before he fired the fatal shot. Commander Jackson 'Ripper' Spencer was torn apart by the flying shards of his own interceptor and its suddenly freed drive energy, there wouldn't even be enough left of him for dental recognition.

The dogfight wheeled on.

Meanwhile Gold was pulling into a tight spearhead formation. At the base of the point the very latest derivation of the multi-function strike team delivery craft. The "Raptor VI" was fast, hard and heavily shielded. Mounted below the nose was a purpose built launcher, fusion powered, high explosive sealed into a shaped charge designed specifically for hull breaching. On board her were the cream of the suriviving Marines, armoured and ready for a 'hostile insertion.' Each one wore a black armoured hard-suit, with its details brought out in bright red. The team's weapry was tactically designed for the roles they were expected to require but based around the 'Katana' personal weapon, a hybrid gauss and phaser rapid fire rifle capable of extreme applied force.

On the Bridge Ranma felt like crap. It had been years since he had been forced to watch a team go in without being along, and at the time he was all but crippled from an earlier injury. It had also cost him the life of his dearest companion, the only woman he had ever loved before his wife.

The Spearhead carved through the defenses of the twin stations. Each successive craft launched twin missiles at the installations' defences, cracking the way wide open for the Raptor. Despite the sudden storm of explosive energy the installations still managed more than a token reply. The Raptor found itself rocked by blast after blast.

"I got a bad feeling about this" muttered Hudson, ominously.

"You always got a bad feeling" argued Drake, with an edge.

"Light em up" ordered the sarge, and the commando fired the switches on their weapons, rediying them for use, "and somebody wake Hicks up!"

Each and every member of the team felt as the so called 'sledgehammer' deployed. Heartbeats later the shaped charge tore a hole into the side of the Alien sensor facility.No sooner had the blast wave passed than the Raptor smacked alongside, clamping on and firing oipen its doors. The commando literally flew through the hole, weapons leading. A lone sectoid found itslef flung to the floor, bounced off a wall and then pulled back to its feet by the successive explosions of the start of the boarding action. It was also unfortunate enough to be getting up just as the first scouts deployed. Thre rounds tore its body tpo pieces, pushing through its hide to explode within. The team bareley even registered the twiching mass of viscera that reamianed as they fought deeper into the facility.

Outside Gold flight turned on the second installation, hammering it with blast after blast of hardened energy. Steadily the damage began to show. First pockmarks then holes appeared. Within seconds the station, and its docked vessels began its own catstrophic end, bright yellow and orange blossoms of fire bursting from its weakened hull.

Far from relaxing him this latest development seemed to push Ranma closer to the edge, his fists clenched around the ends of his armrests, his face creased still more. "This is too..." he muttered. "Turn the scanners round" he ordered, "there has to be something else."

"Aye aye" Dualla agreed, knowing better than to doubt the veteran.

"And recall Gold for close defence" he added, not waiting for the results.

"Aye aye" agreed Gaeta. No sooner had the order been relayed than the scanners flashed an alert.

"Sir" Dualla began, in a voice that was somehere between awe and anxiety, "we have multiple readings on an intercept."

"I knew it" Ranma replied, "we never catch that sort of break." he finished. Then standing he turned to the others, "Okay, until we know otherwsae we are going to treat these incomers as a full strike fleet. That means maximum deployment and powering of the main gun."

"Get Starbuck to break off her flight and move to engage, then oder the latest launches to follow her in, Gold can defend when they get here."

"Sir?" the colonel argued.

"It'll be tight" Ranma conceeded, "but if we don't draw them in some might escape." It was at that point that the lingering fear slipped away from the brdge crew.

The Alien strike force had been lying in wait for the Human vessel on the surface of one of the nearby moons. While they had been hidden from sensors as a result the ships had also found themselves too far out to help the stations. The small flight of Alien interceptors had no doubt been aimed to provide the delay needed for full deployment, but once again the aliens had underestimated X-Com. The aliens had failed to see the incoming X-Com strike as it was, instead believing the carrier was a single over-large battleship.

"Skull, Bronze and Blue report engagement" Gaeta reported. "Alien ships are within expected parameters." That at least was good news, every new engagement with the aliens always held the fear of a new alien technology, an improved way of killing the human forces; this time however the aliens appeared to be using known techs and the fear unrealised once more.

"Brace for impacts" Ranma ordered, seeing before the computer than a small section of the alien attackers would break free for an attack run on the carrier, "and line us up on their big job."

"Aye Aye" agreed the bridge crew.

"Point defence reports all stations green" Colonel Tigh called, in a profeesional tone. Ranma nodded an acknowledgement, and hit the confirm button.

"Fire at will!" Ranma commanded and his screen flshed up the rapidly spining circles of the targetting omputers. In the centre an orange cog coulkd be seen resoving tighter onto the icon denoting an alien mothership. Just as the icon denoted a lock Gaeta reported a firing solution and Ranma was already tapping confirmation.

Just like the Nemesis the **_Corsair_** had a ventral cannon, not as big by any means, and significantly harder to power but present none the less. Across the carrier the lights dimmed, warding against feedback, and just for a split second the damners failed. The cannon fired. A tightly bound Armourr piercing, high tech, high explosive round, propelled by energetic particles so small a microsope couldn't oick them up, hurled itself at the enemey vessel.

"Damage report" Ranma requested from the edge of his seat as the icon flashed a positive hit. The information was relayed to his screen, but a bright flash proved the execise futile. The Alien Mothership tore itself o pieces, rupturing at every seam as it was unable to conatin the sudden nova within its form.

"Suck on that" Ranma muttered, turning to the rest of the battle. "We've got 'em" he said aloud, relaxing for the first time since breakout. "Got the lot of 'em."


End file.
